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“You want me, too.”
“Did I say otherwise?”
“Why do you want me?”
“Spur of the moment.”
“Not only do you not act on impulse, but you’re also putting too much time and effort into something that’s supposedly on the spur of the moment. So allow me to call bullshit.”
His lips tug in a wolfish smirk. “Your attention to detail about me is touching.”
“I have attention to detail about everything. It’s not exclusive to you.”
“Oh?”
“Oh,” I mimic his provocative tone. “Now, tell me why you want me?”
“It’s just a physical reaction, as you mentioned. A lust for an intense hate-fuck.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
My chest squeezes, and I have no clue why the urge to bolt out of here is stronger than the need for my next breath. Still, I force myself to appear unaffected and remain in place. I force myself to stop thinking about the door he just slammed in my face.
Kingsley lazily drags his gaze over me and I squirm. Jeez. After he so brutally ripped my panties, I’m not wearing any, so no accidents should be allowed. I wrap the sweater tighter around me, and he smiles. “Take the clothes with you.”
“Of course I will, genius. You expect me to walk outside naked?”
“No, or I’ll have to deal with all the fuckers who witness the strip show in a not-so-nice way,” he says casually, as if he’s not delivering a threat. “I meant that you don’t need to return the clothes.”
“They’re Gwen’s.”
“They’re yours now. My daughter won’t be wearing that after you came in it.”
I can’t see it, but I feel my neck turning red. The bastard. I definitely and totally and without a doubt hate the shit out of him.
If I could actually not want him, it’d be great.
“Now, sit down and eat. There won’t be a third time I tell you that.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten a thing since this morning.”
“Still not hungry. Have a good night.” I take a step toward the exit, but the moment I brush past him, he grabs me by the waist.
I yelp as he pulls me back and shoves me down on his lap. Or more accurately, I’m sitting on one hard thigh, my legs spread open and my bare pussy brushing against his pants.
The temperature escalates from two digits to three of them superfast. I attempt to elbow him, but the hot breaths at my ear freeze me in place.
“If you’re still horny and would like to ride my leg, go for it, but I can’t promise I won’t fuck you right afterward. Hurt or not.”
I squirm, my fists clenching on either side of me. “Let me go, Kingsley.”
“Not until you eat.” He jerks his chin at the bowl of soup and the plate of shrimp in front of me. “All of that.”
“And if I refuse?”
